


Sized Up

by Salmon_Pink



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_Pink/pseuds/Salmon_Pink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan savours the sensation of being stretched, of being<i> filled</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sized Up

**Author's Note:**

> Set before _The Phantom Menace_. Written for [Star Wars Kink Meme](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org), [prompt](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=33610#cmt33610) "Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon is huge, and Obi-Wan loves the feeling of being stretched".

“ _Please_ , Master,” Obi-Wan gasps, voice cracking down the middle. His skin is soaked with sweat; it stings at his eyes, so he squeezes them shut. But that just makes everything more _vivid_ , his other senses rushing in to replace his lost sight.

Smell - the scent of his own precome thick in the air as it dribbles against his stomach. Taste - the flavour of Qui-Gon’s tongue moving against his own still lingering despite Qui-Gon not kissing him in several minutes. Sound - the obscenely wet noise of Qui-Gon’s hand moving between his legs, fingers slick with lube. Touch - three long fingers buried within him, Obi-Wan’s whole body anchored by the sensation.

“Please!” he asks again, head shaking back and forth across the pillows. There’s a burn in his hips from how wide apart he’s holding his thighs, his body trying to arch up, trying to impale itself further on Qui-Gon’s fingers. There’s a flutter across his chest, the feeling of nothingness made solid, and Obi-Wan moans pitifully at the Force cradles him, Qui-Gon using it to pin him to the bed.

A hand strokes gently across his forehead; Obi-Wan makes himself open his eyes to look up into Qui-Gon’s face. He’s met with an intensity that makes him _shiver_ , Qui-Gon’s gaze dark and raking over the sprawl of his body in as physical caress as the Force itself.

“Patience,” Qui-Gon murmurs. His hand cups Obi-Wan’s cheek, and Obi-Wan presses into the touch with a soft noise of distress. “I will not hurt you, Padawan, no matter how prettily you may beg for it.”

Obi-Wan _whines_ at that, ass clenching down on Qui-Gon’s fingers. He feels so open, so _ready_ , but he knows his Master will not hurry. It’s a necessary precaution, no matter how Obi-Wan may resent it - Qui-Gon is by far the largest man Obi-Wan has ever taken, and so preparation must be thorough every time. He needs this, he knows he does, needs Qui-Gon’s fingers working him methodically as his muscles relax bit by bit. 

But that doesn’t mean he can keep the _desperation_ from his voice, body pleading to be fucked.

Qui-Gon’s fingers move so _slowly_ , warmth radiating out from them. Obi-Wan feels as if his pulse flutters around them as the pads of those fingers drag along his insides. “Please,” he tries again, but the word keeps catching in his throat. He sends the thought through their Force bond instead, putting every shred of _need_ he can into it, and the Force-hold on his chest presses down more firmly as Qui-Gon hears him.

He sees a flash of himself through Qui-Gon’s eyes, spread out and _helpless_ and utterly beautiful, and his cock twitches, precome flowing in a steady line against his abs.

“You are ready.” It is not a question; Qui-Gon knows Obi-Wan’s body as well as Obi-Wan himself does. His fingers retreat carefully, and Obi-Wan’s ass tightens around them, trying to keep them inside even though he knows how much better what’s to come will be.

He feels _empty_ without them, whimpering like a wounded animal. Qui-Gon pets his hair, the Force soothing him, both inside and out - invisible pressure against his body, the safety of Qui-Gon’s thoughts touching his mind. Obi-Wan watches Qui-Gon’s hand move over the impressive length of his cock, slicking the skin with lube as Qui-Gon breathes slowly through his nose.

And then Qui-Gon’s hands are at his hips, easing Obi-Wan’s ass across his lap. Obi-Wan wants to curl up into him, wants to wrap his legs around Qui-Gon’s waist, but he knows that would only make this more difficult. He reaches above his head instead, gripping the rungs of the headboard tightly as Qui-Gon guides his cock to Obi-Wan’s hole.

That first gentle nudge against him is familiar, and Obi-Wan’s body tenses in anticipation. He feels Qui-Gon willing him to relax through their bond, and he follows the steady rhythm of Qui-Gon’s thoughts until he can obey. He breathes as slowly as he can make himself, throat suddenly dry as a desert, and on his next exhale the pressure builds, the thick head of Qui-Gon’s cock pushing against the muscles of his rim.

His mouth falls open as he’s breached, but he can’t manage a single sound.

It’s always indescribable, that first rush of sensation at being stretched so _wide_. Qui-Gon holds him still with a grip on his hips as strong as titanium, and Obi-Wan gulps at the air. Qui-Gon’s cock is still only shallowly within him, but it’s so much thicker than his fingers, so much _more_ , and Obi-Wan recovers his voice to keen quietly, the knuckles of his hands turning bone-white.

Qui-Gon reaches out to him through their Force bond, whispered praise and feelings of love washing over him. 

The slide is slow, it _has_ to be. Qui-Gon feeds his cock into Obi-Wan’s ass so carefully it feels as if Obi-Wan can track every millimetre of it. It aches, even with all that preparation, muscles spasming and giving around the girth of it. Perspiration drips from Qui-Gon’s body as he keeps fierce control of the movement of his hips, hair clinging damply to his neck, lips flushed pink beneath his beard. 

Obi-Wan’s mind seems to empty as his body opens, until all that exists is the sensation of being _stretched_. He feels used, but in a way that’s erotic, incredible, as if his body was made for this, to be a tool of Qui-Gon’s lust. Every so often his ass clenches down, an instinctive reaction as he trembles, and Qui-Gon’s forced to pause as Obi-Wan gasps, spikes of pleasure skittering from the tips of his fingers down to his toes.

It feels like it takes _forever_ ; time has lost all meaning. Deeper and deeper, Qui-Gon’s cock opening him up, until he feels as if he can’t take any more, as if it’s impossible. His eyes roll up, teeth gritting, one hand dropping down to pull at his sac, because it feels like he’ll _come_ if he doesn’t, too much, too sensitive, too good.

There are sobs swelling in Obi-Wan’s chest by the time Qui-Gon’s pelvis is pressed to his ass, so overwhelmed he wants to _cry_. The heat of Qui-Gon within him, the throb of his cock and the hunger in his eyes, it makes his head spin, and he reaches out blindly through their bond, but Qui-Gon’s already pushing reassurance at him, desire colouring his thoughts red.

He’s so _full_ , stretched wide and exposed and _complete_.

“Fuck me!” Obi-Wan rasps, neediness plain in his voice.

Qui-Gon’s thoughts quiver, the red around them growing more vibrant. “As you wish, my Padawan,” he promises, a hint of playfulness in his voice, and Obi-Wan cries out as Qui-Gon grants his request and begins to move.

He’ll be sore tomorrow, but Obi-Wan already knows he’ll relish every tinge of discomfort, the reminder of how thick and long and magnificent his Master truly is.


End file.
